


The Day Pretty and Gloomy Came to Town

by dragonspell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-26
Updated: 2009-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:57:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7902274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys came in together but unless you saw it, you'd never know it.  They stay apart and though the taller one keeps doing a lot of staring, they never make eye contact.  The overly pretty one is making sure of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Day Pretty and Gloomy Came to Town

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Livejournal 8-28-16.

**Title:** The Day Pretty and Gloomy Came to Town  
**Author:** [](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/)**dragonspell**  
**Series:** Supernatural  
**Pairing:** Sam/Dean  
**Rating:** R.  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** None, really.  
**Summary:** The boys came in together but unless you saw it, you'd never know it. They stay apart and though the taller one keeps doing a lot of staring, they never make eye contact. The overly pretty one is making sure of that. Outsider POV.  
**Word Count:** ~ 2250

  
  
The boys came in together but unless you saw it, you’d never know it. One’s tall, wearing plaid and has an enormous chip on his shoulder. He’d be handsome if it weren’t for the scowl etched on his face. He heads straight for the bar and Kelly, seeing an easy mark, sidles up to him and tries to get him to order from her instead of Todd. She pulls out all her usual tricks, fluttering her baby blue eyes and pushing out her chest but she might as well be catfood for all the boy cares. He ignores her and flags Todd down. I smirk and look over towards the pool table where the smaller one’s apparently set up shop.

He’s pretty—maybe even overly pretty—with an easy grin and a fast mouth. In the three minutes it’s been since he came in, he’s already sharking the tables like a seasoned pro, convincing Bart and Monty—fucking cheapskates—to pony up two hundred each. Personally, I think there’s more riding on Monty’s money than just the promise of more green judging by the way he keeps staring at the new guy’s mouth. Really ain’t none of my business but I find it funny. Especially seeing the way the boy’s playing Monty, poor dumb bastard that he is. When the kid slips out of his leather jacket and pulls off his outer shirt like a damn strip tease pretending it’s hot in here, Monty slaps another hundred down. Knowing he’s won already, the guy favors Monty with a grin and lets Monty check out his ass while he racks the balls.

And that’s just how it is. The two boys entered this rundown, roadside bar together but they might as well be in separate rooms. They stay apart and though the taller one keeps doing a lot of staring, they never make eye contact. The overly pretty one is making sure of that. He’s attracted a crowd—Kelly included—and is flirting with anyone that comes close enough, and even some that don’t. Basically every one in the bar except for his sullen partner.

It’s got to be a game they’re playing, only one of them ain’t in on the joke.

They’re the main attraction tonight because you just don’t see many guys like them hanging around, especially not in this sleepy little town, this boring state. They’ve got an air about them of something just barely contained—of something dangerous. Guys like that, they’ve either got an appointment scheduled with death or they’re already dead. They’re magnetic to watch, though. Like a beautiful train wreck, you just can’t look away.

I keep my distance from the both of them, just serving the regulars watching the show, though the flirty one winks at me and calls me “sugar” a few times. Like I ain’t old enough to be his momma. I feel a pleased flush creeping up my neck despite my age, though and bite the inside of my cheek to stop it from giving me away. Like I said—he’s pretty. And magnetic. Monty’s hands are just inches away from the kid’s wiggling ass, but the kid’s leading him around on a goddamned leash, keeping himself just out of reach. Close enough to let Monty think he has a chance and far enough away that his ‘virtue’ is still technically safe. Not that it looks like he has any judging by the way he’s plastered himself to Kelly, holding up a ten and asking her to get him a shot of Cuervo and keep the change. She giggles, lets him peck her on the cheek, and twirls out of his grasp, a seasoned pro in her own right.

He’s got the party in full swing in the middle of this backwater bar, holding court like goddamned royalty and everybody’s panting to have him look their way. Even when he rakes in the cash hand over fist, they don’t care as long as he stays. Monty loses all three hundred bucks and though he looks a little sour, he ain’t starting a fight. Bart loses his cash too—disappearing into the kid’s pocket with a grin and wink. By the time Chris and Dave forfeit their weekly paychecks, the dumb fucks finally start wizening up and start refusing to lay down their cash. The guy, Pretty, he doesn’t let it bother him, though. Just laughs and offers a few free games.

He wraps himself around behind Kelly and shows her how to hand a stick, sure hands sliding over hers. And when Monty comes calling for a free grope, Pretty gives away that, too, pushing his ass into Monty’s hands and giving him a wink.

I turn away from orgy of a pool game, to look back at the bar. The tall guy—and I decide to call him Gloomy because of his permanent frown—is sprawling on a stool, leaning against the bar. He’s nursing his one beer, but he’s got at least five empty shot glasses lined up beside him as he stares at his partner. Somebody’s been busy and apparently he ain’t a happy drunk. He’s a cloud of doom and gloom compared to his buddy’s ray of sunshine. Nobody’s daring to come anywhere near him even though he’s taking up a good three feet of the small bar and Todd’s looking a little disgruntled by that. He may get ten percent of whatever Kelly and I make but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want a few tips himself and I’ve yet to see Gloomy buy his booze. I don’t know if he’s as a good a tipper as his friend who’s up to handing Kelly twenties now.

Pretty’s whispering something in Kelly’s ear as he hands run over the side of her hips, careful to avoid her apron pockets. Apparently somebody’s a pro at more than just pool. Kelly twists in his arms and lays a kiss on Pretty’s pretty lips. Pretty grins and dips her back, all finesse and easy technique.

But apparently that’s all she wrote for Gloomy. He downs his beer and carefully sets the empty on the bar, throwing a few bills at Todd before he stalks over. I hold my breath, watching him, because he looks about six and a half of mean and this probably isn’t going to end well. Todd’s already looked up from the glasses he's been cleaning, analyzing the situation with a critical eye.

Gloomy reaches Pretty and Kelly, one hand settling on Pretty’s shoulder, the other grabbing his wrist and twisting it behind him. Kelly shrieks and darts away but again, she’s catfood to Gloomy. Gloomy’s only got eyes for Pretty and he slams Pretty down against the pool table, sending the balls clacking to the far end as he ratchets up his grip on Pretty’s wrist. “What the FUCK, Sam?” Pretty yells and tries to twist away.

‘Sam’ re-firms his already clenched jaw and pushes Pretty’s bent arm up even higher behind his back. Pretty grunts and lifts off the floor, sliding more onto the pool table to help ease the pain. Seeing an opportunity, Sam steps closer, lining his hips up with Pretty’s ass and my eyebrows raise.

The bar’s gone silent except for the low volume of the TV behind the bar and Pretty’s swearing at Sam. “Fucking control freak BITCH! Goddamn it, Sam, this isn’t fucking funny!” The regulars are standing around, wondering if it’s worth it to help or if Sam will tear them apart. Monty’s standing behind Bart, brave little coward that he is. Todd’s eyes keep darting to the phone. _Cops,_ I mouth at him. Damn it, call the cops!

Pretty manages to get a leg behind Sam’s knee, making his grip waver, but Sam slams Pretty against the hard table again in warning. “Don’t even think about it, Dean,” he growls. First thing I’ve heard him say since I saw him come in. ‘Dean’ bites his lip and holds still, breathing hard.

Sam looks over his shoulder at Todd who’s reaching for the phone and raises an eyebrow. “We’re leaving,” he says and hauls Dean up, arm still bound behind his back. He marches Dean to the door, the crowd parting around them. When they leave, we all hold our breath and count to five. Then we follow.

Either Dean’s managed to escape or Sam’s let him go, because they’re facing each other in the dark parking lot, glaring each other down. “What the fuck was that about, Sam? Somebody piss in your damn Wheaties today?”

Sam doesn’t say anything and Dean takes a swing. “Say something, damn it!” Sam avoids it but Dean’s next hit connects and the guys behind me are already taking bets. They want to bet on Dean but Sam’s just got the height so they’re a little torn. I spare them a disgusted glance before staring at the fight in front of me.

Sam lands a solid hit on Dean’s jaw and avoids the knee heading for his groin. He overbalances to do it, though, and Dean uses the opening to take him to the ground. They wrestle in the dirt, vying for the top and I’m just thankful that the parking lot’s never been paved.

Sam finally pins Dean and straddles him, holding him down. Dean swears and pushes against him, but Sam breaks his hold and shoves Dean back onto the ground before he rears up over him. “Yeah, get mad!” he spits out. “Get pissed! Get anything!”

Dean freezes, panting up at Sam. He swallows, chokes, and starts panting again. Then so soft I can barely hear he whispers “Damn it, Sammy…” and grabs Sam’s jacket to haul him down for a kiss.

I can just fucking FEEL the guys’ eyes behind me bugging out and I got to say I’m with them. Kelly’s hocking up a hairball in the corner, unable to believe that not only has she been outright rejected once tonight, but she’s just lost out to a guy too.

Dean moans and lifts his hips off the ground to rub against Sam’s stomach and Sam sprawls out on top him, mouth and hands all barely restrained fury. He looks likes he’s trying to devour Dean, eat him alive, and he’s fumbling for Dean’s fly.

Dean breaks away, panting, and catches Sam’s hand. He whines when Sam ignores his unspoken order to stop and grips his crotch. “Why don’t you just piss on me and get it over with?” Dean growls, hips thrusting helplessly against Sam’s rubbing hand.

“I might have to,” Sam says, all seriousness and Dean’s pretty eyes widen.

It’s right about then that I decide this show should definitely be over. The boys are working through some issues and though they picked a pretty public fucking place to do it, I think they need some privacy. “Everybody back inside!” I order, rounding everyone up like the lazy cows they are. They reluctantly tear their eyes away and grumble, but they know better than to mess with me.

Dean jerked at the sound of my voice and he’s leaning out from under Sam to stare at me with startled eyes. He’d forgotten they weren’t alone, I suppose. Sam glances disinterestedly at me over his shoulder. I suppose he didn’t care they weren’t alone. I nod at the both of them as I usher the last of the crowd inside before heading back in myself.

Todd’s still cleaning the glasses, having seen more than his fair share of bar fights to be interested in another one, even if this was apparently more a lover’s quarrel than anything. Monty and the boys are staring at the pool table like it’s suddenly lost its magic and Kelly’s counting her tips in the corner with a smile on her face. She’s got her money to keep her warm tonight. I pick up pretty Dean’s leather jacket and shirt, holding them up and wondering if I should go throw them outside or if the boys have already left.

The door opens again, though, and we all look as one—one of those moves straight out of a horror film—as Sam walks back in. Grown men shrink back against the wall to try and hide as he strides to the middle of the bar and straight to me. I meet him head on, though, because the best thing to do when the Devil stands in front of you is to stare him down so you don’t miss a move. Sam nods at me and holds out a hand for the jacket. I hand it over and he slips me a fifty. “Thanks,” he says softly and flashes me a grin. His dimples damn near knock me on my ass ‘cause damn. Who knew Gloomy would be so damn pretty when he smiled?

I nod back and give him a smile. I’d normally say something like “Anytime,” but I don’t think that’s the best response right now. He nods again, and strides out the door, long legs eating up the distance like it’s nothing.

When the door closes behind him, I slowly let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding and like it’s a release valve, the entire bar exhales with me. Then I shake myself and get back to work because that might have been the event of the night, but it’s only 11:30.

Nobody mentions Sam and Dean again, but I know what we’re all thinking about. 


End file.
